


Yellow No. 5

by canis_m



Series: A Different Vintage [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Consensual Mind Control, Hannibunnicula, M/M, Mild Blood, Snacks & Snack Food, Supernatural Elements, food additives, lamb in the sheets, vampire cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6374815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canis_m/pseuds/canis_m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will comes back from a case bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.  Hannibal may have had something to do with that.  </p><p>Follows, if not directly, on "Terroir."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow No. 5

"You know what sounds really good, is pizza."

Something flickered in the dark of Hannibal's eyes. He had to slide Will's fingers out of his mouth to answer, but he took his sweet time about it, making it look like it'd been his idea. He kept hold of Will's hand even after he'd drawn the fingers out, pausing to study their glistening ends before looking squarely at Will.

"Pizza," he said.

When Will had texted to say he was on his way from the airport, and was it okay to show up for dinner, the reply had come directly after sunset: _please do._ Neither of them had expected him back so soon from the case. His dog-sitter was still scheduled for another night in Wolf Trap. His travel bag was in the car, clothes and toothbrush at the ready. It was a measure of his giddiness, maybe, that that he'd thought of going straight to Hannibal's instead of going home. But Hannibal had met him at the door, dressed in herringbone shirt and chef's apron, to greet Will with a glass of Burgundy and usher him in with a warmth that felt like a reward.

Will had taken the wine, knocked back a swig without respect for its vintage or its price point, and returned the glass to Hannibal. He'd made sure Hannibal's fingers were securely wrapped around the stem before he curled his arms around Hannibal's neck. 

To his credit, Hannibal hadn't dropped the glass, and when the kiss continued past welcoming to salacious, had managed to maneuver them both from the foyer to the study, one hand on the small of Will's back. 

Will had asked if he was hungry, and Hannibal had murmured no, no he'd eaten, he hadn't expected Will--in any case it was too soon, Will's body needed more time for recovery--but somehow or other two of Will's fingers ended up in his mouth, pricked and bleeding only from the tips. Now he and Hannibal were stretched out on the suede sofa, legs tangled at the shins, and Hannibal had asked what he wanted for dinner.

"Unless pizza's not in your playbook," said Will.

A look of mild rebuke. "I spent several years in Italy. I'm familiar with the technique." He licked once more at Will's fingers. "And what would you like on this pizza?"

The way Hannibal pronounced the word--as if it were in scare quotes--made Will want to double down. "I get to pick the toppings?" He did his best to keep a straight face. "I dunno, ground beef?" Then he pretended to be struck with inspiration. "There's a bag of Doritos in my car. It could be taco pizza."

Hannibal's expression went from appalled to pained. "Now you are teasing me, yes? There are not, in fact, Doritos in your car?"

"Actually there are. Beverly forgot them last time we carpooled. I keep forgetting to give them back."

"Will." Hannibal's hands enfolded his. "Of course your body is your own, and you are the arbiter of what is taken into it--"

"Yes?" drawled Will, with an edge that reminded Hannibal to watch his step. 

"--but if you harbor any tender feeling for me, I beg you: don't ingest Doritos. Please. Preferably under any circumstances, but at least not before we dine together."

"Why, would they make me taste nasty?" Will cocked an eyebrow. "How nasty?"

"I have a sensitivity to tartrazine. The chemical flavor lingers in the bloodstream. It tastes...orange. Acrylic. Like orange plastic."

"Like traffic cones," said Will. Also triangular and orange. His mind was free-wheeling now; he let the associations come as they would. "What do you have against traffic cones?"

"They're not for eating."

"No, I get it. You don't like that they tell you where you're not supposed to go."

Hannibal blinked. "Are you suggesting I have trouble accepting limitations?"

"I'd suggest that for someone who has to work at it, you've been doing pretty well. Professional driver. Closed course."

"Are you my closed course, then?"

At that Will couldn't help it--he broke into a laugh. "Is this some kind of crash test for metaphors?"

"I hope to earn a five-star rating."

"Oh, I'll give you five stars."

He thought about sticking his fingers back into Hannibal's mouth, less to shut him up than to watch his eyes go dark again, but settled for kissing him instead. Hannibal made a gratified noise and grasped with gentle greed at Will's hips. Even the few drops of fresh blood seemed to have stoked the furnace at his core: the kiss was more heated than the one at the door had been. No hint of fangs in it. Some vampires might struggle to keep sheathed when hungry or aroused, but Hannibal's control was perfect. Will made a low sound and further opened his mouth.

At this rate his sexual response was in danger of turning Pavlovian. He'd been half-hard almost since they landed on the couch. Not urgently--it felt like a pleasant simmer, if one that could flare to a boil without much added heat--but it put him a far cry from the self he'd thought himself to be, as little as two months ago. His straightness, always more assumed than resolute, had never been sorely tested, not in his adult life. Turned out that at the first serious challenger, it rolled belly-up and wagged its tail. 

He couldn't even blame it, and sex was the least of the operative seductions. If anything his sexuality was playing catch-up. The rest of his animal self already lay curled by Hannibal's hearth, ready to stay as long as it would be allowed.

For a minute the idea of it, the evident truth, was overwhelming. After the kiss Will had to duck into the crook of Hannibal's neck, hiding his face. Hannibal seemed to sense his shift in mood, and stroked his hair with one hand, softly. When Will lifted his head again, Hannibal's eyes sought out his.

"The case, it went well?"

Will released a breath. "We caught the perp. It wasn't a vampire, it was a copycat." He shifted, leaning back to put a little breathing room between himself and Hannibal, though he made no move to untangle their legs. "The guy was disguising his kills. We see that more with manslaughter than with murder. Somebody screws up, kills someone without meaning to, panics, tries to cover it up. When in doubt, blame Bitey."

"There was a vampire suspect?"

"A local. She reminded me of your sister, a little."

"Oh?"

"Not in style but in mode. She lived outside of town on this kind of...farm sanctuary. All rescued animals. She was feeding on them, but. Sustainably. She had a rotation. They all looked fat and happy." All except the newest horse. Will had seen a photo of its condition before the vampire lady took it in. Like a horse skeleton.

Humans had done that. People who purported to be human. There was a reason he'd never gone in for animal cruelty investigation, even as a cop. He didn't trust himself not to want to strangle every abuser with his bare hands.

"So," said Hannibal, "the criminal caught, the innocent freed, and all God's creatures rejoice in justice."

"And then the whole barnyard burst into song." 

"And you've had no trouble sleeping? No bad dreams?"

"I slept like a baby. Even when the creep next door was watching pay-per-view at one a.m." He laid his chin on Hannibal's shoulder and closed his eyes. "Thank you, Hannibal."

Lightly at first, so as not to insist, Hannibal's arms folded around him, gathering him in. When Will stayed where he was, the embrace firmed until it felt entirely secure. Hannibal's nose pressed into his hair, mashing the curls on top of his head. His voice grew muffled. "I'm very glad to hear it."

"How long will it last?" asked Will. He wasn't sure what he hoped the answer would be.

"A glamour can persist indefinitely, if the wearer's mind offers no resistance." 

The wearer, Hannibal called him. As if mind control were an accessory one could take on and off at will. A comfy sleep mask. But Will supposed it was like that, if you put it on knowingly in the first place. 

He'd _seen_ the glamour once, or thought he had, as he lay in the dark waiting for sleep: a web of woven cords strung over the bed. Adorned with suspended vertebrae and shed snakeskins. The good dreams would pass through it. The bad dreams would be caught like flies, and the weaver of the web would bind and devour them. 

Will wasn't sure if that had been imagination or vision, or something else altogether. He hadn't mentioned it to Hannibal, not yet. 

"So I can just...leave it on?"

"At some point soon I think we must allow your unconscious mind free rein again," said Hannibal. "Dreams are a processing mechanism. We haven't eliminated the need to process; we've merely paused the machine."

"You think when we un-pause it, I'll have a backlog of nightmares to get through?"

Hannibal gave one of his head-tilts, a shrug in miniature. "It's not impossible. This use of glamour is unorthodox. I hesitate to predict." He lifted Will's fingers to inspect them, checking to see that the bleeding had stopped. "I'd like to be with you through the night when we remove it, if you don't object. That way I can monitor your sleep, and intervene if need be."

The reflexive protest died before Will could voice it. If he was going to wake up thrashing from bad dreams deferred, at least it wouldn't wake Hannibal, not when Will's nighttime was Hannibal's day. And he'd feel better with Hannibal there, one way or another.

"Okay. Thanks." Will sighed through his nose. "It's been good. Being able to sleep. Better than good. I've felt like a functional person."

"Proper rest and proper diet are the foundations of health," said Hannibal. "For that reason, as well as flagrant self-interest, I refuse to put Doritos on your pizza. I'll consider alternative requests."

"You pick," said Will, beginning to smile again. "I'm not picky." 

Hannibal made a show of consideration. "Wild mushrooms, I think. With Taleggio and oil of white truffle." He extricated himself from Will with care and slid his feet to the floor. The chef's apron had gone askew around his lap; he paused to adjust it. 

Watching him, Will arched his back and extended his arms over his head in a stretch. "That's dangerous intel you gave me. About Doritos. Now I know what to eat next time you piss me off."

"I am at your mercy." Hannibal reached for his hand to press a kiss to Will's knuckles. "Will you join me in the kitchen?"

"Yeah. In a sec."

Will waited until Hannibal had gone before standing up. He dragged a hand over his hair, adjusted his trousers and shirt, then retrieved the abandoned glass of Burgundy from the side table. Hannibal's pours were generous; the glass was still half full. Bringing it to his nose, Will sniffed, paying attention this time. He caught nutmeg, soft cedar, red fruit. 

He had to bite down hard on his ring finger to reopen the tiny wound. When a respectable bead had welled, he held it over the glass and let it drip. 

It took some squeezing to wring out a few drops more. Then he swirled the wine, pleased if sheepish at his amateur mixology, and went to the kitchen to bring it to his host.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the color palette fic meme on tumblr. My colors were orange and wine red. 
> 
> You can find me at [unicornmagic.tumblr.com](unicornmagic.tumblr.com)


End file.
